


Punk

by roseboys



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Punk Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, but its okay, hurt and comfort kinda??, i love my soft boys, james barnes is a mess, soft angst, steve loves him anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:17:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseboys/pseuds/roseboys
Summary: James Barnes has developed the annoying habit of smoking cigarettes simply for the sake of luck. It's been a pathetic attempt and hasn't proven to have any result as of yet. Steve Rogers happens to be the name of the poor kid he met trying to light a damn cigarette and James wonders if he could be this kid's saving grace.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I have no clue how Ao3 works and I am so sorry if this is literal garbage I haven't sat down to write anything decent in at least a year.
> 
> This isn't exactly modern day, but it isn't cannon era either I don't know djsnjdjd

Bucky thanked the man at the counter who had slid a carton of cigarettes over to him in exchange for the last of his tips from his latest shift and stuffed his change- a mere twenty-seven cents- back into the pocket of his denim jacket.

He exited the store and cracked open the carton, immediately taking one out and flipping it over so the butt end faced down. It was something he had been taught by a few buddies downtown who told him that he would get some good luck his way if he flipped over a cigarette in his carton and smoked it last. He was almost a hundred percent sure they were all on some form of psychedelics, but he listened regardless.

He pulled a different cigarette and stuck it between his lips, eyes scanning the area around him. It was cold in Brooklyn- the wind blew quickly and bit at his face- however it hadn’t gotten to the point of snow just yet. He shielded his lighter from the wind as he lit his cigarette, taking a drag as he pocketed the lighter.

“Ugh! Hey, sir can you- can you help me?”

The voice frightened Bucky, so much so that he jumped a little. He took the cig from his mouth, blowing out the smoke and staring down at a pretty scrawny looking guy on a bench. He tried desperately to click the lighter, every flame flickering out before it got to his cigarette.

“Hey, kid. You really shouldn’t be smokin’, not at your age.” Buck wasn’t completely sure of how old the other was, but judging by his small features and the way he had asked- he he was far too polite to be asking someone else to light a cigarette for him.

“Just how old do you think I am, huh?” The man stood up, but it did nothing to phase Bucky. He stood unmoving as the kid took the cigarette from his mouth and held it up with a desperate look in his hand. “I’m twenty-two.” He spoke sheepishly after Bucky’s unimpressed expression.

“Twenty-two? Christ- looks like you haven’t eaten for twenty-two years, I’ll tell you that.” Bucky sighed and pulled out his lighter to help the other. The man just stared helplessly at him and Bucky sighed, waving him over. “Come on, punk, I’ll help ‘ya.”

He stepped forward, his hands fiddling with the cigarette. Buck motioned for him to put it in his mouth and covered the flame as he lit the man’s cigarette. He pocketed it once more as the man beside him broke out in a coughing fit, grasping the cigarette with his thumb and forefinger and pulling it out of his mouth. Small wisps of smoke also came from his mouth.

Bucky clapped the man on the back, shaking his head. “God- you’ve never smoked a day in your life have you?”

With that question, his cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, covering what had been created from the frostbitten air. “N-no, not really.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, taking a drag from his cigarette which had gained a considerable amount of ash at the butt end. He exhaled and the smoke was blown into the face of the other, who broke into another small cough attack. “Then why are you smoking?”

His own words scared him- it was never polite to ask someone why they smoked really. Most people, like himself, hated it. He was just addicted to the nicotine. In fact, the night before he had been crying on his balcony with a shaky hand holding onto his last cigarette- his lucky cigarette- and felt disgusted with himself. It hadn’t tasted good in the slightest, it just eased his addiction. 

That was exactly how he felt taking another drag. He eyed the man up and down, his weak stature and heavy coughs, Bucky would have advised the man against it. He was in no shape to start an addiction of any kind.

“I-I don’t know.” His hand went to scratch the back of his neck. He was restraining himself from speaking, that much was obvious from the slightly pained expression on his face. “I just… so many people do it. I kind of wanted to try it… Why do you do it?”

Bucky stiffened, glaring over at the man and taking a drag, hoping to make it clear he wasn’t in the spirit to answer. “What’s your name, kid?” Bucky quickly changed the subject around, sighing softly. The question had made him uncomfortable, and suddenly he didn’t want to be around the guy anymore.

“Steve, uh Rogers.” He answered, trying his luck at taking another hit that only resulted in him becoming a spluttering mess.

“Steve Rogers, a word of advice.” Bucky spoke, stepping closer, “May I?” Steve nodded, unaware of what Bucky was going to do. Bucky dropped his own cigarette and crushed it with his heel before taking the cigarette held between Steve’s thin fingers. He took a drag and blew the smoke away from Steve, “Give this up before it gets to you, seriously.”


	2. Two

“Ye-yeah thank you.”

It was a familiar voice, which was odd to Bucky. He initially believed it to be a customer who he had recently waited on at the restaurant, but that was out of character for him. He normally wouldn’t remember something of that nature.

The man grabbed a carton of cigarettes and turned around, his blue eyes matching Bucky’s. He almost choked.

“Rogers.”

“Couldn’t stay away.” The man grinned, holding up the carton. It was almost sickening, his eyes were sunken in to hint at a lack of sleep. His lips were paler and as he grinned, the lightest of yellow stains were evident on his once-white teeth.

Bucky’s jaw went slack and all he could muster was a little surprised noise. Steve clapped a hand on his shoulder, “See you later…” His words slurred in the slightest and before Bucky could question anything he walked outside and cracked open the box.

Bucky was distracted, slapping five ones on the counter and taking his carton without his change. He walked out and found Steve up against the wall. His small figure completely betrayed his attitude. He had a cigarette between his lips and a hazy look in his eyes.

“I left you for a week.” Bucky said incredulously, running a hand through his hair as he stared at Steve in disbelief. Steve glanced over, and Bucky could see a red tinge to Steve’s eyes. “And you’re hooked.”

“Am not!” Steve retorted, and from the way he slurred it became obvious that, at the very least, Steve was buzzed.

For a reason unbeknownst to himself, Bucky didn’t like that. He didn’t appreciate Steve, who had been a handsome man, start ruining himself.

Steve stood up straight, stepping forward and placing a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “You really shouldn’t smoke. You gotta nice face.” He grinned once more and Bucky felt like he really shouldn’t be in public.

“Where do you live?” Bucky asked, Steve laughing and grinning. He slunk his skinny arm over Bucky’s shoulder and gave a dry laugh.

“A little too early for that, don’t ya’ think?” Steve used his other hand to pat Bucky’s chest. Upon seeing his unamused expression, Steve huffed and said, “Fourth and Leaman. But I can take myself home!” He protested, taking a hit of the cigarette that had been in his hand. “I can walk from here, it’s not that far!” It was pretty far, and the fact that he had walked over without a car was a miracle.

Bucky sighed and shook his head, pulling Steve’s arm over his shoulder and starting to take him over to his car. A little odd looking, he assumed. Steve had been dressed in a white tee shirt and khaki colored pants that hung loosely off of his hips. A belt was on, however it was still loose and whoever had put it on hadn’t done a very good job in doing so.

From this, Bucky questioned if Steve had a gal at home to take care of him. He wondered if he had anyone at home to worry about his declining state. He hoped there was. Bucky knew far too well that everyone should always have a person at home to worry for them- life was dreadful without. Anyway, Bucky had been a guy at average height, but Steve’s small frame made him seem like a giant. Here he was, a man who probably had a mean first impression, dragging an almost-passed-out man to his car. He just hoped nobody would be staring for too long.

Steve sat in the car and fell back into the seat, looking up at Bucky and smiling, “Comfy.” He said, smiling softly as he leaned back in the seat. “Is this leather?” He hummed and Bucky laughed quietly to himself.

“Nylon, but sure.” He smiled, and Steve laughed, too. His laugh was bright and it almost made his bloodshot eyes disappear for a moment. “Leather seats if you want ‘em to be, Baby.” He shut the door and walked around to his side of the car with a smirk on his face. Only as he entered his car and looked over at Steve had he realized what he said.

Steve hadn’t noticed, or at least pretended he didn’t because he had been totally unphased by his words. Bucky’s face was flushed, but he was thankful the other really couldn’t see or comprehend it. He was too busy fiddling with the seatbelt.

By the time the two had gotten to Steve’s apartment, there had been one brand new burn hole in his seat caused by Bucky accidentally dropping it while Steve giggled and said, “Hey, look!” God knows what he had been pointing at, but he didn’t bring it back up again. Bucky parked and helped Steve out, pulling him inside and asking him to lead him in the right direction.

With a little embarrassment resulting from Steve leading him to the wrong apartment initially, they had finally gotten to Steve’s apartment. What had been Steve’s slight buzz had started to dissipate as Bucky helped the man lay down on the couch. He groaned loudly, grasping at Bucky’s arm as he laid down on the couch. His arm laid over his forehead and he gave Bucky a hopeless look. “Can you get me a glass of water?” His words still slurred, but he was definitely conscious of what he was saying.

As Bucky wandered into the kitchen of the unfamiliar home, he wondered if Steve knew himself as just a stranger or if he believed him to be someone different. Two empty beer bottles- one and a half upon closer inspection- sat on the kitchen counter, along with a mess of dishes that looked to have been built up over a period of a few days. His eyes fell on the fridge, a picture of Steve and a girl in front of the apartment building hung up. He had his scrawny arm slung over her shoulder. Another, this one a polaroid picture of the two with the caption Friends to the End and a small heart drawn on it.

Bucky thought he looked cute in the first photo. The sun was shining in his eyes so he was squinting but still had a bright smile on his face. He looked much happier there; no bags laid under his eyes, no slouch in his shoulders, and the brightest smile on his face. He let his fingertips touch the photo before he felt a little odd, dropping his hand and grabbing a cup from one of his cupboards.

He filled it up and hurried out of the kitchen without looking back at the photos. Steve was in the same position as when Bucky had last seen him, just his arm now hung over the edge of the couch. Bucky sat awkwardly at the end and the dip must have awoken Steve because he jumped up with a gasp.

Steve immediately groaned and held onto his head, a visible shudder rocking his body. He held his hand out for the water and Bucky gave it to him with a sympathetic smile. He sat up, his shoulders immediately slouching as he glared down at the floor and took a drink. “You’ve got to be the biggest damn lightweight I’ve ever seen…” Bucky remarked, which had earned him a small scowl.

Steve stayed silent as he sipped his water. Bucky hated it, hated the silence. His fingers twitched and his fell back to his cigarettes, so he stood and excused himself while pulling his pack from his jacket. He opened the door and the last of the sun that was up in the air shone in his eyes.

As soon as he opened his pack he groaned, realizing he hadn’t flipped over a cigarette. He hadn’t created his lucky cig. He hoped it wouldn’t hurt to do so now and flipped one over before selecting a new one to hold between his lips.

“Why do you do that?”

Bucky jumped- almost dropping his lighter- at Steve’s words. He took the cigarette from his mouth and looked over at the man. He had turned around and his head was leaned on the back of the couch.

Now that the sun was poking through the door, Steve’s tired eyes were highlighted and his pale skin now had a golden hue to it due to the real beauty of the sunset. Bucky hadn’t even been aware of the small smile he sported before he pushed his cigarette back to his lips and had to wipe the grin from his face to accept it between his mouth.

Bucky sparked his lighter and lit his cigarette, taking a drag before asking, “Why do I do what?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe and leaning his head back to exhale the smoke away from Steve and his sickly stomach.

Steve pointed a wavering finger at the box in Bucky’s hand, and he looked down to see the box lid open. He held it up and Steve nodded. “Yeah- I saw ya’ flip a fag around. It’s… upside down in the box.” He wavered his hand a little and took a sip of his water once more, shuddering a little. “Why’d you do that?”

Bucky looked at his box, and felt a little ashamed. He had never really thought on why he had done it, but in the short amount of time he had to think on it he became sheepish at the realization that he had done it for a speck of luck- and that was the truth.

A group of men, not in their right mind and on some type of drugs, had called out to him as he held his new pack of cigarettes in his hands and told him to flip over one for luck. Bucky’s first damn cigarette, too, and he would always tell that whatever happened to him that day was not at all lucky. It was a childish endeavor in a last attempt to have some sort of positive day, each lucky one smoked supposed to bring on good luck.

It was not lucky, because that brought on the mania that was Bucky’s addiction. It was not only a new addiction to cigarettes, but to the longing for luck. A new hope to hold on to- and it was depressing, to say the least.

“It’s a lucky cigarette.” Bucky explained, exhaling shakily before taking another drag. “A few dopes at the docks told me I’d get good luck after I smoked it.” He laughed a little and shook his head, “Never got a damn day of good luck since then.”

Seeing Steve frown as he looked down at the cigarette carton on the end table stirred something within Bucky. It was an emotion he could not entirely place- one he would later identify as hope- but for the first time in a long time, Bucky felt he might have done something good.


	3. Three

Steve sat outside the restaurant, looking down at the cigarette carton in his hands. It was brand new, he got it yesterday, and he’s been hesitant to pull one out. That guy’s words have been in his head, that James- that Bucky. He felt truly guilty for pulling that poor man into his life when he clearly had his own problems, too. Though he really didn’t ask to be carried home.

With a small scowl he shoved the box back into the pocket of his coat and entered the restaurant. Before Bucky left he gave him a caveat. “If you don’t stop all this soon, you’re not going to be able to come back.” Steve wondered if he spoke from experience.

Steve had been in the process of cleaning his apartment up. The dishes piled up in his sink to an astonishing height, and Steve had gotten through half of them before his frustrations built up and he had to leave everything how it was before he started crying. He had to go to bed early that night. Dishes seemed a bit intimidating the next morning so he tidied everything else up.

He drank a beer, careful to match it with water, and pondered hard on some things. He looked at the picture of his Peggy- his old girl. God, how he had missed her. The last her saw her she was holding his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. She had tears falling over her cheeks and she said, “I can’t do this forever, Steve.”

Steve had to get some fresh air, and somehow that landed him at the local diner. He hesitated to enter but he was hungry and he didn’t necessarily want to go home and make more dishes for himself. He was seated by a friendly woman who poured him a cup of coffee and said his server would meet him soon.

An unenthusiastic man met him. His slim button-down was wrinkled and his hair wasn’t the least bit in place. As he got to Steve’s table he let out a little sigh and wore a painfully fake smile. “Hey sir, do you need another minute or are you ready to order?”

As Steve stared up at the man, a shrill voice caught his attention. “Bucky!” A few girls squealed in delight at the sight of their server. Steve and his server’s eyes darted over a few tables down, and there he was. James Barnes stared down at the table with a wicked grin, a few menus in his hands.

“Hey ladies, what do we got to drink?” He asked with a small laugh, setting a menu down down in front of each of the girls. There were four of them, two on each side of the booth. As he leaned over and set them down to the two girls near the window, the girls closest to him giggled madly and looked up at him.

“Oh, Buck. You know- the usual!” One piped up and he smiled, scribbling down their orders. It was odd to see Bucky like this. The two times that Steve had seen the man, he always had a faint crease in his brow. His denim look was gone, replaced with the plain work uniform Steve’s server wore too. It was much more neat, though. As was his hair- it was slicked back without a single tuft out of place.

Steve also saw a smile. Bucky had a big smile on his face as he looked down at the girls. He waved his pen in the air and disappeared back into the kitchen. “Sir?” His server’s voice brought him back. He had an unimpressed look on his face. “Ready to order?”

“Oh- yeah, sorry about that…” Steve explained what he wanted to the man, though he was hardly aware of what he was ordering. It wasn’t his first time at the diner so he had a vague understanding of what was on the menu. He was focused on Bucky, filling the drinks for the girls. The smile had dropped, his face much more familiar.

Steve’s server huffed and went to the back to place the order. As he walked passed Bucky he whispered something to him and he scowled, the server giving his shoulder a little push and walking back off. Bucky took the tray of drinks for the girls and walked back over to them, setting them down for each of the girls with a smile. “Thanks Bucky!” They all giggled and took their drinks happily.

“Hey! Sir? You payin’ attention?” A gruff man asked, snapping his fingers in Bucky’s direction. The girls all stopped laughing, looking at each other as the man continued to beckon Bucky over. “Come on! They ain’t the only table you’re waiting on!”

Bucky gave the girls an apologetic smile and turned away from Steve. “Sorry about that sir, what can I get you?” The man went off on a ramble about how shoddy the service was and he wasn’t paying to watch Bucky flirt with “a bunch of broads”.

This made everyone in the area uncomfortable, everyone shifting in their seats or looking down into their drinks. Bucky’s back tensed, it was visible through his shirt. Steve bit his lip.

“All do respect, sir. I was just serving those lovely ladies their drinks.” Bucky said calmly. The man spat and Bucky took a step back, wiping his hands on his shirt. He took a deep breath and the man gave an ugly smile. He pointed to the pad in Bucky’s hand and raised a brow.

“Don’t you think that you should be writing this down, boy?” He asked, and Bucky tensed once more. He just offered a little nod and took the pen out, ready to write down his order. “I’d like a water and a coffee. Cream and sugar.” Bucky flinched once more, looking between the pad and the man.

“Sir, the cream and sugar is right there I can’t really-”

“If I wanted to get it myself, I would.” The man huffed, and jerked his head back toward the kitchen and gave another grin. Steve’s hands balled up into fists and he couldn’t help but speak up.

“Hey, show a bit of respect, why don’t ya’?”

All of the eyes in the room turned to him, and he felt a light flush fill his cheeks. Of the people that turned, Steve was most ashamed to feel Bucky’s eyes stare right at him. His mouth feel slack and he quickly shut it, chewing at his lip.

The man huffed, staring right at Steve with harsh eyes. “Hey, why don’t you mind your damn business?” He said, sitting forward in his chair and scowling at Steve.

Bucky shot Steve a little smile and turned back to face the man, “Sir, that’s not necessary here.” He said, putting a hand up. Before anything could get too far, Bucky looked down at the pad and scribbled something down and clicked the pen. “I’ll be back with that coffee for you right away.”

As Bucky walked away, the man looked at Bucky and had a nasty look on his face. “The minute you walk out of here you’re dead, kid.” Steve got a sick feeling the man wasn’t kidding either.

Steve kept his eyes away from the man and stared down at the table to wait for his server to return with his food. He could feel the constant glare of the man baring into him and didn’t dare look at him. He did, however, glance at where Bucky and a few other servers stood chatting.

Bucky was talking to Steve’s server, a pleading look in his eyes. Whatever he was saying must have been pretty important as he was gesturing with his hands wildly for emphasis. The one thing Steve could make out was a little, “Thank you…” From Bucky as he grabbed a tray and disappeared into the kitchen.

Steve’s original server passed by his table with a small huff, the tray he carried held a mug and a cup of water. He stopped at the rude man’s table who let out a little grunt. “You’re not my server.” He remarked, looking the server up and down. The server ignored him, setting the drinks down at his table. “Something you’re forgetting?” He asked.

“Ah, right.” Steve’s server said quietly, reaching across the man’s table and grabbing the sugar and bowl of little coffee creamers, dragging it in front of the man. “There you go-”

He cut himself short, not waiting to hear what the man had to say before quickly walking off to the back. The man grumbled about something to himself and poured the sugar and creamer into his coffee.

Soon, Bucky had emerged from the kitchen with a tray of food and a little smirk on his face. His eyes met Steve’s and he didn’t break eye contact once as he made his way over. “Here you go, sir-” Bucky said, laying Steve’s plate in front of him. “Do you need anything else?”

Steve gave a little laugh, “I could use a smoke.” He joked, shooting Bucky a grin. Bucky didn’t seem too amused by it, his smirk falling.

“Sorry sir, can’t get you that here.” He said, then added a little, “But my smoke break’s in ten.” His voice dropped a little and Steve nodded.

Bucky’s smile returned and he picked up the tray, “Enjoy your meal, now.” He said, turning from the table and heading over to the table of giggling girls who had all perked up at the sight of their server. He chatted with them a bit and Steve frowned, focusing back on his food and starting to eat. He hummed, it had been a while since he had eaten food that wasn’t prepared in a microwave or on his stove.

Steve ate hastily, eating almost as fast as possible so he could catch Bucky on his break. He’d most likely fall victim to a stomach ache later on but he wasn’t focused on that. He was focused on finishing his meal.

Bucky walked over as soon as he saw Steve’s clear plate. He slid the bill on the table and flashed Steve a smile. “I’ll be out by the back door, I just have to talk to the boss and take it real quick, alright?” Steve nodded quickly, taking the bill and going over to the counter to pay.

Steve rushed out of the diner and walked into the back alleyway that lead to the back door of the diner where he anticipated Bucky’s arrival. After a minute passed he sheepishly made his way up the steps and peered into the door. Bucky was nowhere in sight.

A little frown fell on Steve’s face and he turned from the door, walking down the steps and heading out of the alley. He heard the front door of the diner swing open and his frown disappeared. “God, Buck… I was starting to think you stood me up…” He laughed. He paused a moment when Bucky didn’t respond. “Hey… I thought you said you were coming the back way…”

The gruff man from earlier emerged into the alleyway, a sick smile twisted up on his face. Steve gulped, taking a few steps back to the door. His glanced back, wondering briefly of he could make it to the door before the man had a hand on him.

“You’re gonna learn some manners, boy.” Steve took off, running back down the alleyway. He heard the man’s footsteps behind him gaining and he desperately flung his arms outward in an attempt to grab onto anything before the man took a firm hold of his collar and yanked him back.

He gasped and landed on the floor, looking up at the man with wide, pleading eyes. His pitiful eyes clearly were not enough. Last he knew, he sent a punch up at the man before a punch landed on his jaw with a crack.


	4. Four

Steve didn’t remember much of what happened, but Bucky would boast to himself that he remembered every second of it. On the account of Bucky, he told Steve exactly how it went.

Steve was lying on the ground, ears ringing and vision hazy as the man had one hand grasping Steve’s collar and the other landing blows to his face. He hadn’t had any sense of time at all, he only knew that past busted and bleeding lips he called out weakly for Bucky. Perhaps the heavens had heard him or he had been there all along, but he heard the familiar gravelly voice of Bucky over him.

The last punch to his face was pulled, the man’s knuckles barely coming into contact with Steve’s cheekbone before his whole body was sent toppling over onto the floor. Steve lifted his head- which hurt to the greatest extent he had ever imagined, and watched as Bucky took the man by his shoulders and pushed him to the wall.

“I suggest you go on alone before someone makes you go.” Bucky warned, though he wasn’t a hundred percent sure that was what was said. That’s what Bucky said but Steve’s memory was shot. All he knew was he saw Bucky push the man out of the alley and kneel beside Steve. His vision was darkening and black spots grew more abundant as Bucky got closer. The last thing he felt was Bucky’s hand on his arm before he was pulled right back into his slumber.

“Hope you don’t make a habit out of this.”

Steve groaned, the voice drawing him from his state. He wasn’t quite asleep, but he sure as hell wasn't fully awake either. A soft of limbo was what would best describe his consciousness. “Make a… make a habit?” Steve grumbled, trying to force his eyes open.

His sight wasn’t the first sense to return, of course it was hearing first. Next, it was scent. It was familiar, a smell of cigarettes and leather seats crinkling below him. His fingers grasped at the seats below them, his thumb running over a small burn hole on the side of the seat.

Finally, his eyes cracked open and flooded with light. He brought his hand up to shield his eyes before taking a glance to his left. Bucky sat, hands ten and two on the wheel, and a little grin on his face. “Yeah, Stevie. Don’t you remember last time?”

Steve’s already hazy mind had to take a moment and recollect his thoughts. He suddenly became very aware the he had been in this car before. It was Bucky’s car. If it wasn’t made clear by him driving the car himself, the smell of the cigarettes that he smoked filled his senses It was so prominent that he could almost taste it, he shuddered.

“Last time…” Steve grumbled and brought a hand up to touch his forehead. He hissed in pain as soon as his fingertips came into contact with his skin. He hadn’t noticed the dull ache until then, and when he looked at his fingers he winced the sight of the small bit of blood there.

Without looking away from the road, Bucky gave a little sigh. “Is it still bleeding? Damnit, thought that one would’ve stopped.” It was quiet, so Steve thought he must have been speaking to himself. He wiped the blood onto his jeans and leaned his head back onto the seat.

“Do I ask what happened now or later?” Steve asked, closing his eyes and trying hard not to focus on how particularly bumpy the road seemed to be. Bucky just sighed, reaching a hand over to pat Steve’s thigh. “So later…” Steve grumbled, before they fell into a little comfortable silence.

Still without concept of time, they arrived somewhere in what seemed to be years. P️erhaps it was the headache that meddled with Steve’s brain still or maybe he had just been out of it for the past few days, but his mind felt fuzzy and foggy. So much so, he hardly recognized his own apartment as Bucky helped him in and onto the couch.

“You’ve cleaned up since I’ve last been here.” Bucky said, and Steve swore he could hear the smile in his voice. Bucky was in Steve’s kitchen, and Steve felt his face flush. That was the one room that had been left relatively uncleaned, which was why he went to the diner.

The diner, that’s where they had just been. “You work at the diner?” Steve asked, sitting up in the couch and turning to look at Bucky. He had a glass of water in his hand but he was staring at his fridge. Steve couldn’t see exactly what he was staring at, but he had a good idea of what it was.

He turned around and cast his gaze to the floor, a bright blush burning on his cheeks. “You cleaned up for me, didn’t you?” He asked, a little chuckle following as he moved beside Steve on the couch. He held out the cup to Steve and he gratefully took it, taking a few small sips.

Steve got impossibly redder, and Bucky frowned a little. “Are you catching a fever?” He asked, moving forward and gingerly placing a hand on Steve’s forehead. He hissed and pulled back from the pain, but also from embarrassment, and Bucky shook his head. “You’re burnin’ up.” 

Steve took a few more sips of his water. How was he to tell Bucky that it wasn’t any sort of fever without explaining it was a blush? He shook his head and finished the glass with a little sigh. “It’s not a fever, Bucky. Happens all the time.” He said, and that damned frown never left Bucky’s face.

In fact, his brows furrowed deeper and he sat back against the couch. “Well, you’re here now. God, what were you thinkin’? Pickin’ fights with a drunk man?”

Steve huffed and raised a brow, crossing his arms over his chest. He immediately regretted it because of how much it hurt, but he couldn’t be bothered to uncross them. “Didn’t know he was drunk.” Steve explained with a shrug, which hurt even more.

“Didn’t know he was drunk? If I knew any better I’d say you’re damn near the most clueless person I’ve ever met, Stevie. Man was reeling… Are you alright? You’re pretty flushed…” Steve could feel the blush rising to the tips of his ears and he cursed himself for loving the nickname. “Ah, Stevie-” There it was again, God Steve was going to implode, “- Where’s your bathroom? Least I could do is clean you up.”

Steve wanted so desperately to protest but something within him forced his hand up and pointed down the hall. He was the least bit relieved that he had cleaned the restroom, so the whole place hadn’t looked like a sty.

Bucky returned with a wet rag and a little sheepish smile. “Didn’t want to dig through everything…” He said as he walked back over and sat at the opposite end of the couch as Steve. “May I?” He asked while turning to face Steve, who nodded and moved so he was leaning in close to Bucky.

He felt like a child with his mother, and felt a little hurt settle in his chest. He missed his mother, who was the last person to make him feel safe. He longed for his mother’s touch once more, her gentle hands moving to ease his whimpers and cries after yet another schoolyard beating. It hadn’t felt exactly like that with Bucky, but Steve supposed that was a good thing.

Bucky’s hands were calloused, his fingertips were rough but his touches had not a single rough intention with them. He held Steve’s cheek still so he would not flinch away, and Steve swore he could feel his heart leaping out of his body. Bucky was just familiar enough to take comfort in, but he was also new enough for Steve to enjoy a fresh breath of air.

“Sorry…” Bucky said quietly, “It’s gonna hurt a little.” Steve couldn’t even bite his own lip in anticipation for the pain due to its own state so he fisted his hands in the fabric of his jeans and waited for the worst to come. It hadn’t- at least not as bad as Steve thought it would. Bucky worked carefully, a gentile smile on his lips to presumably ease Steve’s nerves, but that didn’t mask the worried lines creasing on his forehead.

Steve just stayed silent, his teeth biting into the inside of his cheek. If he spoke, he’d most likely have a voice thirteen octaves higher than his normal tone. He hadn’t felt such a nurturing touch in so long, a part of him didn’t mind that he and Bucky were hardly past the stages of being meer acquaintances. But he had to wonder about what Bucky thought of the situation.

He worked hard to ensure Steve took care of himself, which was odd. He supposed no one in their right mind would leave anyone, especially Steve, buzzed and teetering on the edge of drunkenness on the sidewalk, but what was the motivation behind Bucky’s persistence? Surely Bucky didn’t have to worry himself over Steve, he did a well enough job on his own.

It was clear Bucky wasn’t helping Steve for any sort of self-satisfying reason, because Bucky was so damn focused on making sure he wasn’t hurting Steve. It truly made him feel like he was flying.

Steve’s mind was hardly aware of the pain in his face, it was too focused on the butterflies in his stomach that danced with every move Bucky made. He’d apologize if he pressed too hard or scraped the cloth on his face, but he didn’t look Steve in the eye until he set the rag down in his lap. Their eyes met and Steve wanted to collapse on sight.

He was smiling, Steve could tell by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want to look at his lips, Steve thought it might be all over then. Bucky made him happy, and he made him feel safe. That’s more than Steve could ever ask for.

“Thank you…” Steve spoke, but it was involuntary. Then, he couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. His wide grin matched Bucky’s, and it seemed to get brighter in the room.

Bucky was the first to break the eye contact. He closed his eyes and shook his head, his eyes darting to his lap. “It’s nothin’, Steve. You expect me to leave you in that alley? He had you down and out in seconds, man…” Bucky ran his hand through his gelled hair, his fingers separating some of the strands and making them stick out. Steve grinned.

“Well that makes this twice you’ve saved my ass. Deserve a thank you for coming back, then.” Steve could see Bucky’s face flush and his hand fell to his pocket. Steve saw his fingers touch the outline of the cigarette carton and he quickly looked away.

Bucky’s hand moved and he grabbed the rag, his fingers toying with the fabric as he kept his gaze off of Steve. “Just… thought you were deserving of a little saving.” He said, and Steve smiled wider. Bucky turned back to Steve, and pursed his lips to hide an obviously wide smile. “Sorry the first time you saw me at work had to be when you got your ass beat.”

Steve laughed, light and genuine, and it hurt a bit but he didn’t mind. He shook his head, and a sudden bout of confidence seized his heart and made him spoke, “You wouldn’t mind if I came down and redid my first time there, then?” He asked, and watched Bucky with anticipation making his heart race.

A cocky smirk made its way onto Bucky’s face and Steve internally cursed himself. He had seen enough of Bucky's charm earlier with the girls he waited on earlier, and he had no doubt the charm was about to return. “Take you to that shithole? God, no. If I want to impress you I’ll take you somewhere finer.”

Steve was at a loss for words, but he felt only determination in that moment. “Some fine place in Brooklyn? Aw, hell Bucky we’d be lookin’ for hours!” He teased, and leaned forward to playfully shove Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky’s grin made Steve melt. “You’re a little punk, I’m just trying to take you out on a nice date… Just to make up for getting beat up on my shift.”

“So this is a pity date then, huh? Thought you might actually wanna take me out, jerk.” Steve gave a fake pout and crossed his arms over his chest. Bucky shook his head, and his big grin fell completely from his face.

Steve’s stomach dropped and he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. He feared he had said something to make Bucky upset or angry and he went to speak before Bucky started. “No pity dates here, I want to take you out and show you that I’m not completely boring.”

Steve would never believe that Bucky was boring- in fact Bucky just might have been the coolest guy Steve had ever met. So Steve said exactly the opposite. “I think it’s gonna take more than a few dates to show me you’re not boring.” Only to entice out his competitive side, of course.

That God-awful grin returned, teeth shining and brow cocked. “Oh yeah? If you weren’t so hurt I’d take you out now. But I think right now you and I both need a little rest.”

Steve’s small frown never faded, in fact he stuck up his nose a little and huffed. “Just cause I’m hurt you won’t take me out? God, I’ve not got my whole life.” He said, and this time Bucky’s grin didn’t fade.

Instead, it grew to a nice, big smile. A genuine smile that seemed so sincere it touched Steve’s heart. “Really? You trying to guilt me now? Well, guess what… I think we do have your whole life.

Cause I’m with you, to the end of the line, Punk.”


End file.
